


like a seed of memory

by seimaisin



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Dom/sub, F/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Miqo'te Headcanon (Final Fantasy XIV), Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:26:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26565088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seimaisin/pseuds/seimaisin
Summary: G'raha Tia never thought he'd have the responsibilities of a Nunh. But then again, he never thought he'd have a mate quite like his Warrior of Light, either.In which the WoL has a very Miqo'te-specific problem, and the solution is sex. Lots of it.
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 7
Kudos: 114
Collections: Final Fantasy XIV - Crystal Exarch x WoL Recommendations





	like a seed of memory

G'raha Tia is barely a teenager when he learns about the heat. His tribe's Nunh has always treated him kindly - rough, but kind, which summed the man up pretty much in full. And G'raha has never met a question he won't ask someone, which combined with his weird eye means he's not the most popular kid in the tribe, that's for sure. But the Nunh will always answer his questions, even if the answers may not be entirely appropriate for a 13-year-old who likes books more than most people. 

So one day, after the old man comes out of his home, trailed by G'raha's very tired but happy looking aunt, he can't help but ask. "I don't understand," he says, falling in next to the Nunh as he walks away from his aunt's home. "I know something happens, the women smell weird and get kinda sick, and then they come to you and you disappear for a few days. What is it?"

The old man chuckles. "I admit, I didn't think you'd ever show any interest in that. But I guess you do always want to know everything, don't you?" He ushers G'raha back to his home, and once they're inside, sits the boy down. "It's a thing that happens to Miqo'te," the Nunh explains. "And for whatever reason, who it happens to depends on what kind of parts they have." When the old man gestures to his crotch, G'raha blushes, but tries not to squirm. He's not a kid anymore, he knows about sex and stuff, he's gonna be mature about this. "Those with the parts that usually belong to women, every so often, they start to feel really bad, and the only thing that will make them feel better is having sex with someone who has the parts you and I have." 

"Oh." G'raha doesn't want to imagine his aunt having sex with the Nunh. He knows it happens, of course he does, he's not a baby, but now he has to think about the fact that they had sex, like, today, right here. Ugh.

"This is one of the reasons why the Nunh is important, boy," the old man continues. "A person who goes into heat is vulnerable - they don't think straight, and if it's bad enough, they might accept relief from the first person who comes along, and that might not be safe for them. And when a person is in heat, we -" He gestures to himself and G'raha again, "- can smell it. And it makes us a little crazy too. Our instincts tell us we need to rut with them, sometimes whether they want you or not. So it's my job not only to make them feel better, but to protect them."

It makes sense, but G'raha is sure that it will never be his problem. He's never going to be a Nunh, and he knows it. He's going to be a _scholar_ , and maybe an adventurer if he's lucky. So, he reasons, it's okay if he buries himself in more books and forgets all about who the Nunh is having sex with. 

And then in a few years, he leaves for Sharlayan, and honestly he really does forget a lot about tribal culture. And then … well, it's not like sex is a particularly pressing issue for him for a while. A very, very long while. 

*

He's only been an official Scion for two days when Nova disappears. 

Okay, maybe she hasn't _disappeared,_ no one around the Rising Stones seems to be worried, but she hasn't said anything to him, which is the concerning part. Not that she needs to report to him all the time, of course. Just because they were … well, _intimate_ back on the First doesn't mean he owns her or anything.

… he'll just keep telling himself that until it feels true. 

_Intimate_ … gods, that word isn't enough. The woman he'd been dreaming of for decades - centuries, if you count the vague memories he has of his long sleep - surrendered herself to him when he was just a hooded old man. And when it was revealed that he lied, manipulated her and her friends to save two worlds, she gifted him her grace; she called him by his name and loved him anyway. She submitted to him carnally - oh boy, did she, in ways he never dared hope - but she also carried him, fanned the sliver of hope he'd been carrying into a flame that burned across worlds and into the chest of the body he now wears, into the life he'd always dreamed of. She's - well, she's his everything, and it's taking every ounce of restraint he has not to plaster himself to her side like a leech and never let her out of his sight. 

He's apparently not very good at hiding his emotions without the hood, because when he passes by her desk, Tataru looks up at him and gives him an encouraging smile. "Don't worry, she's at home, she doesn't feel good." 

His ears twitch at that. "Oh, really? What's wrong?"

"Nothing to be concerned about, she just said it was probably just a bug she picked up somewhere." The almost pitying smile Tataru gives him makes him wish he still hid his face from everyone. There are definitely moments when he misses the Exarch. 

Honestly, it's not a surprise Nova is feeling ill, after all the stress she's been under. But G'raha can't shake the feeling that something is well and truly wrong. It's irrational, he knows it is. He can't sit still - he tries to sit and read one of the books Urianger lent him, and reads the same page a dozen times before giving up. His thoughts circle around and around.

_Nova needs me._

_Nova does not need you, you fool. She deserves some quiet rest._

_No, there's something off._

_That something is you, old man. Learn to adjust to a normal life._

It's Y'shtola who saves him in the end - which, he thinks later, is not a surprise, even if it is a bit embarrassing. When she comes into the room, she stares at him in surprise. "You. Why are you even here?"

"Me?" G'raha scrambles to put the book down. "Um, is there a reason I shouldn't be?"

Y'shtola cocks her head, then sighs heavily. "Yes, I believe there is." She walks over, leans against the table next to him, and holds up a hand. "I do not want to know _anything_ about the nature of the relationship between you and Nova, but I am going to tell you that she is at home dealing with a problem that we -" She gestures to herself with a grimace, "-have to suffer from time to time. One that you, I believe, are in a unique position to help with."

He stares at her for a long moment, uncomprehending, before the voice of his long forgotten Nunh, some hundreds of years ago (for him, anyway - gods, the old man is probably still alive and running the tribe right now), echoes in his head, and he freezes. "You're sure," he says in a low voice. It isn't a question.

"G'raha," Y'shtola says, her voice much softer. "Our Nova is strong, but she has some very particular issues of … self-esteem, I'd say. And if there's one thing the raging hormones do, it's make the negative thoughts in your head feel like too much to bear." She gives him a small smile. "The only thing that helps is … well …"

He's up out of his chair before she stops talking. "I'll be back …"

"... in a few days," Y'shtola supplies to his retreating back. He ignores the humor in her voice. Ignores everything else, honestly, as he makes a beeline for the aetheryte -

\- and then returns back to Y'shtola, who hands him a slip of paper. "Her address."

"Thank you." 

He'll be mortified about her laughter later, when he's less worried. 

*

He knocks on the cottage door. "Nova? Are you in there?"

At first, only shuffling and some quiet thuds tell him that she's home. Then the door opens a crack, and he sees her face. She looks like she hasn't slept in days - dark hair hanging in her face, skin pale enough to be nearly translucent, wearing only what appears to be an oversized sleep tunic - but that concern is overridden by his suddenly feral instincts - _heat she's in heat my mate is in heat I need she needs -_

But she didn't say anything to him. Not a word. She didn't ask for him. The pain cuts deep enough to override the snarling beast inside of him, at least for the moment. "Nova," is all he can say, his voice dangerously close to a growl, bracing his hands on the doorframe to keep from pushing the door open and entering where he may not be wanted. 

She lets out a soft sob, and he's never done anything more difficult than staying still in this moment. "Raha. Oh gods, please …" 

A week or so ago, he would have been sure of what she was asking for. Now - now he's a different person, and maybe she is too. But even in this new-old body, his instincts recognize the bond they shared back in the First, and keeping his hands off her is almost literally killing him. The part of his mind that isn't burning with need is trying desperately to remember the old man's words from so long ago - about need, and scent, and responsibility. He didn't know it would feel so overwhelming so quickly, just having her scent in his nostrils. "Nova, if you don't want me here," he manages between gritted teeth, "close and lock the door now." 

She sobs again, sounding almost like a laugh. Her words start to come out in a rush. "Oh gods, please, I need you if you still want me please, _please._ "

"If I still …?" The utter absurdity of those words, strung together in that order, snaps his control. He shoves the door open and grabs her around the waist, pulling her in for a punishing kiss. The sounds she makes in return are almost heartbreaking, desperate little squeaks as she pulls at his clothing and seemingly tries to climb inside of him. He only barely remembers to kick the door closed before he grabs her ass and lifts her up to trap her between him and the wall. Gods, she's so warm, like she's sick with a fever. He inhales deeply through his nose, taking in the thick scent of her arousal, and uses every ounce of mental discipline he's developed over his abnormally long lifetime to push his own hurt and confusion to the back of his mind. Nova needs him. He will do anything for her, literally anything - and waiting to figure out what's at play here is hardly anything in the grand scheme of things. 

She doesn't need newly awoken G'raha, the man still adjusting to his life. She doesn't even need the Exarch and his endless supply of magic and quests. She needs a Nunh. And while he never thought to fill that role, for Nova? _Anything_.

With a soft snarl, he leans in and sinks his teeth into the soft flesh at the junction between her throat and her shoulder, where her large tunic has slipped away. She wails, digging her nails into his back - if she didn't keep them short and blunt, they'd be tearing holes in his shirt. "Raha please, I need I need I need I need …"

"Use your words," he tells her, his lips on her skin. "Tell me, and I'll give it." 

"Your _cock_ ," she wails, squirming against him - trying to lower herself to grind against him, he's sure, but he's got enough weight on her to keep her where she is. "Oh god, fuck me, I can't stand it, _please_."

Her voice breaks on the last word. Gods above, he can't handle hearing her in so much apparent pain. He reaches down to fumble with the fastenings on his trousers and awkwardly shove them down far enough to free himself. He's hard as a rock now, of course, and has been since he first caught her scent. When he pulls back enough to position himself and thrust up into her, the sound she makes is possibly loud enough for anyone in the next house to hear. He catches the sound in a kiss, and keeps their lips locked until her jagged breath has eased and her sounds have faded to soft whimpering. He pulls back to see tears wetting her cheeks, and his heart feels like it might break. "My brightest star," he murmurs, kissing the wet spots on each cheek. "I'm here, I promise."

Just having him sheathed in her seems to be calming, so he takes the chance to move them to a slightly less precarious location. "Hold onto me," he murmurs, and carries her to the nearest table, where he can distribute her weight and not worry about his own trembling legs. She collapses inelegantly onto her back, and G'raha reaches down to tug the sweaty garment she still wears over her head. As he leans over her to free her from the tunic, she grabs at his chest, grasping handfuls of his shirt. "Fuck me, gods Raha, fuck me right now."

His tenuous hold on his temper snaps, for just a moment. He growls - actually growls, like a wild animal - and grabs her by the wrists. "If you wanted me to fuck you," he spits, "you would have told me you were like this." 

Nova's beautiful violet eyes are blown wide, thin slivers of twilight sky limning an endless expanse of black. "I didn't - I didn't know how -"

"Didn't know how?" His hips snap forward, pushing his cock deeper into her, and tearing another high-pitched cry from her lips. "We established that back in the Tower, I thought. Use your words, and trust me." Another thrust, and her head lolls back onto the table with a thud. "Did that end with the change of location?" 

And there it is, his most primal fear. That in gaining one of his dearest dreams, he'd lost the other. She'd given herself to him - to the _Exarch_ \- let herself be bound and dominated, let him claim her in ways he'd never dared hope to have. Was her interest only in the mysterious old man in the Tower? Is she squirming on his cock now out of necessity, instead of true desire? He's avoided the question until right now, but suddenly he's terrified to hear the answer.

"Oh gods," she moans as he thrusts again. "No! Fuck, no, no, no, I want you I need you always always always …" He nearly loses his footing from the rush of relief her babbling gives him. "Oh fuck, I need - can't think, can't - words, please just -"

G'raha takes another deep, shaking breath. He can wait - he can channel the vicious, possessive energy that threatens to overwhelm him into something that will help her - help both of them. With a snarl, he pulls her wrists down to cage them on the table at her sides, and starts fucking her hard and fast. She flails against him; not trying to free herself, seemingly trying to push back against him, to get more friction. "Stop," he orders. "Stay still." He needs equilibrium, a way to find his balance, and he's found over the years that dominance does that for him. And thankfully, she's used enough to his commands that her body stills immediately, as much as it can given how much she's trembling. Now the only movement she makes is the sliding he causes with his thrusts, at least until her orgasm takes her. And gods, will he ever get over how good it feels to have her come on his cock? The fluttering and squeezing, the high-pitched sounds she makes that would never escape her when she's elsewhere, the way her thighs squeeze around him as she loses control of the rest of her body. He's never felt anything better, and never will, he knows.

When she's done, she goes limp on the table, murmuring "more, more, more" in a soft voice that sounds almost half-drunk. G'raha reaches down and grabs her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "Since when do you call the shots?" he asks, letting just a sliver of the love and affection he holds for her thread through the steel in his voice. "You know the rules." 

With a shaky breath, he pulls out of her. The unhappy noise she makes somehow both breaks his heart and soothes the vicious energy balled in his chest. He's more centered now - his mate is here, he can take care of her, that's all that matters. He has stamina; his own raging desire can wait until she's had what she needs. But, he thinks as he peels off his own clothing, perhaps part of what she needs is the structure he can give her, not just the pleasure.

At least now she looks wrecked in a slightly more positive way. "Come on, my wayward star," he says, scooping her up from the table and carrying her over to a nearby armchair. He sits, cradling her in his lap. She's still shaking, but she's doing well enough that all she does is curl up and bury her face in his neck, looping her arms around his middle. He presses a kiss to her hair, and feels her mutter something unintelligible against his skin. "What's that?"

Nova pulls back, but her eyes stay focused on his chest. "You smell different," she mutters.

"What?" G'raha blinks. "Yes, I suppose I must." 

Suddenly, words start to spill out. "I know it's you, I know you're you, but when I get like this I can't reason - I wanted to tell you, wanted you, needed you but every time I got close this damnable thing in my head told me it wasn't you because you don't _smell_ right and I couldn't shake it!" Her voice gets smaller and more high-pitched with each word, until she breaks down into sobs that shake her whole body.

Oh. Everything snaps into focus, her words, Y'shtola's words, the Nunh's. He crushes her to his chest, pressing his face into her hair. He holds her like that until he feels her still again, considering how to help the feral animal that currently has its claws in his beloved. "Then we need to get you used to this scent, don't we?" 

"This helps," she admits, her face once again pressed into his skin. Then she looks up, her eyes sly underneath the hair falling in her face. "Feeling your cock inside me helps more."

He has to laugh - gods, there she is, his Nova. "It is the same cock, a few hundred years doesn't change that, thank the Twelve. But I don't really think you've earned more yet." His cock would beg to differ, stiff and swollen and pressed into her hip. But it's his job to take care of her, and right now, that means reminding her that the man he was in the Crystal Tower is still the same man he is right now, in all the ways that matter. "I shan't punish you for not coming to me, that's a complication neither of us considered. But …" He gives a small grin, an expression that makes him feel much like the Exarch again. "Even in your condition, you should remember how to behave with me, my love. For that, you need to stand and bend over the arm of the chair." 

It takes her a moment to disentangle herself and make her trembling legs obey his order. He rises behind her, keeping a hand on her hip to help her remain steady. She doesn't immediately bend over, though; instead, her eyes roam his body in a way that makes his blood feel like it might boil over. "I've never seen you naked," she points out. 

"Huh. I suppose you haven't." He never fully removed his clothes back in the Tower - he wasn't sure how she'd react to the extent of the crystal suffusing his body, and honestly, it made him a little shy. He's far happier with a body that's little more than five and twenty when it comes to baring himself to her gaze, that's for sure. "Like what you see?"

"Mmmmhmmmm." When he points, Nova reluctantly turns away to lean over the chair arm, leaving her delectable ass pointed upward toward him. 

She's still trembling, and his senses are still overwhelmed with the scent of her desire - he senses he's not going to have very long to play with her before the heat becomes unbearable for both of them again, so he'll have to make the most of the time he has. When he hums, looking around the room to see if any potential props present themselves, she looks back over her shoulder. "Bedside table."

G'raha raises an eyebrow, but heads over to her bed and opens the small drawer next to it. Inside, he finds several familiar looking items, including a soft, well-worn leather crop. "Wait," he says, surprised. "This is mine?"

"I may have raided your quarters before I came back to the Source," Nova says. "You know. Just in case."

"Oh, you brilliant, beautiful woman. I'd say this stroke of genius may cancel out your punishment, if I didn't think you were looking forward to it." 

She swears under her breath. "Gods, Raha, I want - I mean," she corrects, stuttering a little, "I trust you, I promise." 

"Good girl." Returning to her, he runs a hand over the skin of her ass, before slipping his fingers briefly between her legs in a teasing caress. She swears again as he circles her clit, her voice shaking a bit, and he chuckles. "I promise," he says, as he brings his fingers up to his mouth to taste her, "I'm going to take care of you. I just apparently need to remind you how _well_ I can take care of you, so the wildcat inside of you never forgets who I am again." 

A moment later, leather hits flesh, and the room is filled with the sound of Nova's cries. Back on the first, he found the pain to be an excellent way to distract her from the burden the Light placed on her. Now it takes her mind off a different sort of agony. And, well, it's a ridiculous turn-on to see the red marks darken her flesh, to see her legs buckle, to hear the moans that tell him how much she loves the bite of the crop. It's threatening the hold he has on his own increasingly feral instincts, but at this point that doesn't seem to matter so much. He's held on long enough to give her the comfort she needs, but he's also shaking from the effort to not just throw her to the ground and pound into her until he's spent. 

Another hit, and her moan ends on his name, a broken plea. _His_ name, something she never used back on the First, not when they were intimate like this. The Exarch was always "sir" or "my lord," by his own original request - when he was determined to keep her at arm's length, knowing how their time together was likely to end. But it didn't end like that, and now he's here, in a body that smells and behaves far differently. And she's begging for it. For _him_. 

With that thought singing through his body, G'raha breaks.

He tosses the crop aside and grabs her hip with one hand, using the other to guide himself into her waiting heat without any warning. Her resulting cry is something between a scream and a laugh, an entirely triumphant sound that he can't help but echo. She's so wet, so hot, every other sense fades away until the only thing he can feel is his cock, and the way she feels around it. And then there's nothing but the sound of flesh on flesh, wet and hot and fast, moans and curses and noises that would seem entirely animal to an observer. When she arches her back in an attempt to take even more of him, he leans over and uses an arm to pull her up from the chair, back to his chest as he continues thrusting quick and shallow. His teeth sink into her shoulder, and that seems to tear her apart - she comes in his arms, incoherent grateful words pouring from her lips. But he's not ready to let her rest just yet. "More, Nova," he orders, his voice no more than a growl. "Again." 

In the end, he wrings two more peaks from her before he loses himself. She's boneless in his arms, whimpering nonsense words that sound like happiness as he empties into her. His energy drains with his seed; when he's finished, it's all he can do to ease them both to the floor without entirely collapsing. He sprawls on his back, pulling her onto his chest, where she curls up and starts to purr softly. It is, G'raha thinks, the most beautiful sound he's ever heard.

He almost thinks she's fallen asleep - in fact, he's very nearly drowsing himself - when she speaks. "You smell better."

"What?"

"Now. This smell. It's better."

His heart swells, but he can't help asking, "How so?"

"The Exarch was … sharper. The crystal was, I mean. You felt more like … I don't know, authority. Separate." One of her fingers traces a line over his jaw and neck - a line, he knows, that would be the separation of skin and crystal just a week ago. "Now you're …" Nova pauses for a long moment, seemingly searching for words. Finally, she presses light kisses to the invisible line she just drew. "Mine," she whispers.

G'raha tightens his arms around her and gives quiet thanks to whatever power - be it Hydaelyn, or some other power altogether - that allowed him to wake again, to feel her in his arms at least one more time. "That I am, my brightest star," he says, smiling. "That I am." 

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from ["Scent of Your Skin" by Sharon Knight](https://sharonknight.bandcamp.com/track/scent-of-your-skin). Lots of love as always to blindvogel for constant advice and encouragement.
> 
> This entire story can be blamed on [Emet-Selch's book club.](https://discord.gg/eEMpCwU) It's entirely their fault. Come tell them how terrible they are for encouraging me.


End file.
